


Drifting Among Darkness

by parttimefemmefatale (writingramblr)



Series: Regency Romance [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Regency Romance, Romance, business woman Rose, dancing and dinner parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-11 16:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/parttimefemmefatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 Years have passed since Rose Tyler inherited the family business, and she's accomplished so much in that time. But she's still not made any risks with her heart. </p><p>When John Smith comes back into town, she knows things must be settled between them.</p><p>But when Lord Noble starts to catch her eye, what can she do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second part will be much more mature, and the rating has been upped accordingly.

_3 years later…_

***

Despite what many in the Ton thought, there were not stacks of coin or paper bills lying about Rose Tyler’s bedside. No. To be precise, they littered the floor of her bedroom, and trailed all the way into her enormous walk in closet.

It had always been there, but now she had dresses to fill it with. Designer pieces that had taken many an hour to fit and sew.

Yes, Rose prided herself on the fact she kept half of the county’s seamstresses in business.

When she was not overseeing the Vitex board, she was counting money and generally behaving most unladylike.

At least, that’s what the rumors told.

In truth, there was certainly a small amount of money left lying around Rose’s room, but it was only because she liked to budget for the month. She always paid in cash, and refused to use a checkbook, or simply the word of Tyler credit.

She preferred to keep all her debts settled, and to leave no room for scandal, even though it arose in her wake. She was fast approaching thirty, and the vicious gossip that she’d once confessed she’d _like_ to die an old maid was ever circulating.

The fact that she attended every fete she was invited to, all of them naturally meant nothing. Once Sir Smith, or John Jr. as she thought of him, had left again for university, she had resumed her usual course of attendance.

Dancing the first three sets, hiding- a harsher word than vanishing- in the library, then graciously dining with the other attendees.

She never let her beautiful smile fall throughout every evening, so that there could never be a doubt as to her joy at socializing, but whenever she was not in public view, she kept her face solemn, and her eyes lifted towards the horizon.

Lady or not, she was determined to fulfill her dream. It had secretly thrilled her, those years ago, when John had confessed to wanting the freedom that the open road offered. The thrill had been an additional shockwave of delicious rebellion following the kiss they’d shared. The beautiful gift of starlight and moonbeams he’d given her, or as close as one could come, had been worn once, and then returned to a black velvet box she had. Once it had held her mother’s favorite necklace, but Rose had given it to Martha for her wedding present, and never regretted it. Martha had deserved something special, and Lady Tyler had been just as much family to her as Mrs. Jones had been to Rose.

Since that night, Rose had never once been alone with another gentleman, and accepted no expensive gifts beyond those of organic nature. Flowers, chocolates, or bottles of wine.

If one were to question her record of being alone with Rakes, they could certainly not claim the same.

In town, the Vitex heiress and operator was rumored to see operas and watch ballets from secluded balcony’s, and never alone.

But she didn’t care. Let the jealous old biddies talk. Who she sat beside, and who whispered sweet nothings into her ear was her business.

***

A crisp white copy of Martha Jones’ degree in medicine hung on the wall of Rose’s makeshift office, centered in the library.

It had taken a severe push, and not to mention a larger sum than Rose had anticipated, but Martha had been allowed to test, and passed with flying colors. She was a Doctor in every way, even if she still was forced to wear only a nurse’s uniform.

Rose had asked for a copy of the degree only so she could brag at every chance she got that she’d grown up beside the wonderful Doctor Jones.

Of course, she also went by Mrs. Smith. She’d been married to Mickey Smith, Rose’s favorite butler and all around handyman nearly two years now, and word was from the last letter received, Martha was expecting a child.

Rose had been unable to attend the wedding, due to an unfortunate accident at a Vitex factory, but she’d heard all the stories, seen a sketch of Martha’s dress, and made certain the necklace arrived safely.

Besides the books that littered her desk, or cluttered, as she knew Martha would have said, she had a thick bundle of letters from John. He had written to her every month after leaving, and she’d treasured every one like a novel by one of the greats.

She’d never once managed to write him back, but he seemed to accept and understand that. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to, but she didn’t really know what to say. To play the part of the girl back home was not her forte, and she had no wish for any letters to go astray, and give the wrong impression.

She felt affection for him, far beyond that of a simple neighbor, but even then, she’d not been sure what that could turn into, or if she dared to hope for it to become anything. Now it had been a full six months since she’d received a missive from him, and it had significantly dulled her trips to the post office. Every time she glanced towards the jewelry box, and saw the dust coating it thicken, she smiled sadly.

She had nothing to look forward to, other than the occasional gift from a paramour or a thank you note for appearing at a tea party. Any party invitations were delivered right to her door. She smiled as she traced a finger over John’s yellowed letters. They’d been sitting in direct sunlight while she’d been at work, visiting and inspecting the factory that had suffered an accident the past year. Seeing them reminded her of John, and Jack. The large black dog popped into her mind’s eye and she felt like slightly more cheerful as she recalled their first meeting.

How she wished he’d escaped the Smith estate and come to find her in John’s absence. But he never did. She had a hunch that perhaps John’s sister was the reason for that. The girl had never seemed to like Rose, but it had been so long, much had changed. Maybe even the lovely brunette could find it in her heart to let Rose befriend her.

Not that her mother would approve, of course. Rose Tyler was far too brash for her own good. Not a model that any young debutante should look up to.

She sighed and lazily made her way to the kitchen to begin brewing some tea. In the months since taking on the mantel of the Vitex Empire, she’d learned to change her palate, and she now drank tea as often as water, leaving the dark bitter brew of coffee for the rest of the world.

The estate felt so empty now that she only employed a handful of servants. They only came by once a week, to tidy up anything she’d missed while in town, and they never greeted her with warm conversations or admiring looks.

They believed the rumors and thought they worked for the devil.

What did they call her?

“Big bad wolf.”

She smiled to herself. Sure. She was the opposite of a delicate flower; she was there to blow the houses of innocent gentlemen down.

Why was it that when a woman took control of her family’s legacy and worked for a living she was demonized?

Rose would never know.

She was always patient, and completely honest in her business dealings, and with her father’s name in her past, she could rely on the men she employed.

It didn’t really mean she felt any better, knowing that their lives were in her hands. If she had done as John suggested once, gone off and sold the empire, piece by piece, the people who worked for her wouldn’t be successful, wouldn’t have their own families, and would possibly be a lot hungrier at night.

She undid her hair from the tight bun it was confined into, sighed aloud as it fell onto her shoulders in still damp waves.

She grimaced as she ran a hand through it. If she had her way, she’d run around with it down all the time, but some sense of propriety was a necessity.


	2. Chapter 2

Christopher Noble wasn’t usually a man to frequent book shops, but he’d been sent on an errand by his brother in law, a desperate mission to find a last minute gift for his sister. Donna McAvoy nee Noble, didn’t like books much more than Christopher did, but books were always a safe choice. She refused to allow her husband to buy her jewelry, for she said it only clashed with her red hair.

“When one has hair like mine, what’s the point of wearing sparkly baubles?”

The glare she always gave them both dared them to argue. Christopher smiled grimly as he recalled her expression. Commonly known as her ‘unbothered’ look, she used it anytime something did in fact bother her, just to annoy people.

Mostly him.

Oftentimes only he could get her to break the calm façade she liked to maintain. She despised the fact that redheads were known to be quick tempered, and tried every day to prove it a myth.

He blew out an impatient breath as he walked down the same aisle, and then shook his head. There was no point in wasting any more time in the shop. A leather bound bible, with a bright satin sash, would have to do.

He grabbed the one he saw that had a brilliant shade of emerald wrapped around it, and nearly threw it at the shopkeeper.

“Gift wrapping sir?”

Christopher leveled a glare at the man, who didn’t press him further.

“Thank you.” He nearly growled when the man had finally finished preparing the parcel, and was well on his was to running back to his carriage when he collided with an extremely soft pink and yellow object. It let out a small squeak.

The object was not in fact a bundle that had been stacked beside the door, but a woman. The yellow was actually blond hair, done up in a fashionable coiffure, but the instant he’d grabbed for her, to prevent her falling backwards onto the cobblestones, a few strands slipped free, framing her face.

“I’m terribly sorry miss.”

He helped the woman to her feet, and took a better look at her, lest she decide to slap him for nearly crushing her.

His eyes widened as he recognized the matured face of the girl who once entertained him with a dance at one of Donna’s parties so long ago.

“Rose Tyler?”

Her beautiful face broke into a smile, and he swore perhaps the gloomy clouds parted and he could hear angels singing.

Nonsense and utter folly, but all the same, she became twice as lovely when she smiled.

“That’s Lady Tyler to you I believe. Any chance you could explain where the fire you’re fleeing from is? Or is this a mad dash of a thief?”

She eyed his parcel suspiciously, and he was on the verge of defending himself, albeit unnecessarily, when she burst out laughing. Her pink tongue slipped between pearly white teeth as she amused herself, at his expense, but he couldn’t seem to find it in him to mind.

“Well, Lady Tyler, the truth is I have been shopping on behalf of my sister’s husband. If you must know, I’ve just saved him from the fate of buying her the wrong sort of birthday present.”

Rose’s eyebrow lifted, and she nodded, still seemingly unconvinced,

“I see. Tell me Lord Noble, is it in your job description to run errands and deliver gifts, like at Christmastide? Should you next go shopping for some red and white velvet?”

When she linked her arm around his and began to walk them both away from the bookshop, Christopher took it to mean he was forgiven for the collision, and she was bent on teasing him without mercy.

He ran a hand through his neglected for far too long dark grey hair, and shrugged,

“Only if you will help me choose the proper shade. I do not want a loud red. I think crimson would be better suited to my color.”

He chanced a look down at his companion, and he found himself trapped in the whiskey hazel eyed stare of the oft called Big Bad Wolf.

She looked on the verge of falling asleep, but the tone of her voice indicated anything but that,

“Does that involve my observing you trying on these various things?”

Despite a top notch education and many years since of study, Christopher Noble found himself speechless.

***

Rose wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking, but nothing could have ended well, when the day began with her need to buy a new volume of Webster’s Dictionary. Her first copy had been in tatters for far too long, but she’d been putting it off. Going into town for anything but pleasure meant possibly having to converse with the same biddies who enjoyed ripping her to shreds when her back was turned.

What she hadn’t planned on was running into the one person in the entire Ton who she actually liked. Well, the one person besides John.

Christopher Noble, or as she always had addressed him, before her twenty-fifth, Lord Noble. Despite his age, which was only betrayed by his high forehead and grayed hair, he cut a dashing figure.

Unfortunately, he’d cut it right into her. She’d barely reached out to open the door when he’d come rushing out.

Suffice it to say, she’d seen her life flash before her eyes.

Luckily he was a gentleman, through and through, and was now letting her behave most wantonly, out in public, in broad daylight. On busy streets, where anyone could overhear the nonsense she was spouting, but god, was he looking at her lips?

She quickly straightened her face, and dropped the bedroom eyes she knew she’d been shooting at him, and tilted her chin upwards.

“Tell me Lord Noble, do you enjoy opera?”

A deep noise rumbled through his chest and erupted from his mouth. Laughter. She’d made Lord Christopher Noble laugh. Quite unintentionally.

“No Lady Tyler. I do not particularly. But I hear you have quite the fondness for it.”

Her mood soured,

“Ah. Well yes. I do enjoy the music.”

When she dared to look at him, no intent other than neutrality in her expression, she saw a confused look dance across his face,

“When they are singing in another language? Have you been holding back from the Ton Lady Tyler? Are you multi-lingual?”

The penny dropped.

Rose was back to feeling angry, at him, at the Ton, and at women in general everywhere.

“No my Lord. I’m afraid not. But one does not need to understand the words to appreciate the beauty or the emotions expressed in the composition.”

“Indeed.”

His cut was not direct, for he did not relinquish his hold on her arm, and she did not move away from him, but she felt the anger rise to a head, and she turned on him, bedroom eyes back in full effect,

“Would you like to accompany me to the opera tonight my Lord?”

If he’d noticed her changed tactics, he made no indication, other than a quirk of his lips, and possibly a twinkle in his blue eyes. When had they grown so dark? Just moments previous she could have sworn they would have matched the sky if they’d not been framed by such heavy brows.

“It would be my greatest pleasure to do so Lady Tyler.”

Rose grinned, and she finally felt the power tilting back in her favor.

“Wonderful. I shall bid you farewell for now. Pick me up at eight?”

Lord Noble ducked his head down, and moved so quickly she had to wonder if she’d ever been in true danger of falling before, and once she had blinked, he was kissing her hand. Her bare, glove-less, ice-cold hand.

It was not chilled while his lips touched it.

The moment he let her go, she felt the cold seep back into her skin.

“Until then, my Lady.”


	3. Chapter 3

Christopher arrived home to his estate to find his beloved red haired sister awaiting him in the parlor. With expert speed and sleight of hand, he passed the parcel off to his butler, who took his coat and covered the package in one move.

“Donna, dear sister, what brings you to my home on such a miserable day?”

She rose from her seat and kissed him on his cheek with the warmth of a wasp.

“You know very well why I’m here Christopher.”

He winced. When she used his full name he knew it meant trouble.

He waved away the offering of tea, and sat back to experience her fury.

“I know where you’ve been.”

He cocked a brow at her,

“Oh? And where’s that? Town?”

Donna rolled her eyes,

“No. Well yes. But more specifically, you’ve been in town, walking around on the arm of Rose Tyler…what are you thinking?”

Christopher was wondering just what natural disaster had occurred that had transformed his sister into the spitting image of their mother, when suddenly she leaned forward, and took his hands,

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to meet her?”

A wide grin split her face, and he thought she rather looked like the disappointed cat who only got the canary, and missed the cream.

“I didn’t _meet_ her. We just…met.”

Inwardly he was relieved that she hadn’t discovered the fact he’d been shopping for her. He wasn’t sure if that would have been worse.

“Well, that may be the case, but I don’t care. The woman has been a recluse ever since my third party of the season, the season three years back. I want to see her, I want to catch up with the Big Bad Wolf.”

Christopher tried to hide his shudder at the words, but if Donna had noticed, she made no comment of it. Something about the phrase made him feel ill.

It in no way fit the description of Rose Tyler, Vitex heiress and now empress. She was better off being referred to as the Golden Goddess.

A hand snapped in front of his face and he growled.

“Don’t give me that. You stopped paying attention thirty seconds ago.”

Christopher reluctantly nodded,

“Forgive me Donna. What did you say?”

“I said, I hope to goodness you invited her to my birthday party.”

He shrugged noncommittally.

Donna huffed in annoyance.

“You know that would have saved a courier a trip, and saved me money.”

Christopher snorted,

“Not like it’s your money is it? Just tell Lee to make the call.”

Donna glared at him, and he just smiled blithely,

“You think you’re so funny. Well I think I’ll make _you_ the courier.”

A smirk crossed his face, and shrugged again,

“If you insist. I’m just your stupid ape, carrying messages about to all your lady friends.”

Donna smacked his arm,

“Don’t act so put out. I know you well enough. You don’t dislike the girl.”

Christopher shook his head,

“Of course I don’t, but Donna, she’s not a girl anymore. She’s a woman. She’s nearly thirty.”

Donna made a noise like an angry cat,

“Still a lot bloody younger than me, or you for that matter.”

Christopher’s eyes narrowed,

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Donna stared at him, but there was no fire behind it.

“Just deliver the message.”

He nodded,

“Of course. I live to serve. But Lee better tip me well.”

The last thing Donna saw was his grinning face before she tossed the cushion at him.

***

By the time the doorbell rang, echoing around the near empty manor, Rose had been ready and pacing the halls for over an hour.

Regardless of the fact that Rose was alone for the night, and had to dress and do her own hair, she’d been remarkably efficient. She liked to think Martha would have been proud of her.

She had needed to resort to a headband to keep back the more stubborn pieces of hair, namely the bangs she’d been trying to grow out for the last year. Unfortunately, every time she thought she was going to stay strong, and really grow them out, she’d relent and trim them.

The result was the front half of her hair was not long enough to remain in one braid, and she had little patience to do more than one.

She descended the stairs in a rustle of satin and stopped to pull open the front door breathlessly.

“Good evening Lord Noble.”

She managed a shaky smile, and hoped that her nerves would abate. Once the fact that she’d asked Lord Noble to come to the opera with her had settled in, she realized how grave of an error it might have been.

He wasn’t just another rake who’d eagerly part from her at the end of the night. He had real societal status, and what if he decided this whole thing had been a bad idea also?

But he wasn’t saying anything. He was just standing there, looking at her, with his eyes wide as china saucers. Well, if china came in the precise shade of blue as Lord Noble’s eyes.

As far as she knew, only fabric could be made in that color.

She cleared her throat, and grinned wider at him,

“Shall we go?”

He nodded, and held out his arm, swallowing quickly before replying, finally to her relief.

“Good evening Lady Tyler. You look beautiful.”

Rose giggled, despite herself.

“Considering?”

His eyebrow lifted,

“Considering what?”

“That I was completely improper, and invited you to accompany me, instead of you having asked me?”

He shook his head, and she was distracted by the way he held his hand as she climbed into the carriage before him.

Once settled, she turned to him again, demanding an answer with only a look.

“That has no bearing on the fact of your loveliness.”

Rose’s eyebrows were surely comically high, and she couldn’t think of a clever retort.

She knew the shade of dark salmon, nearly the crimson they’d been joking about earlier that day was flattering to her hair color and skin tone, but she’d never expected to hear such a high compliment from Lord Noble.

She supposed it was inevitable, that even the most proper gentleman could succumb to her charms, and she felt a strange sense of pride well up inside her.

“Well, ah, thank you.”

A nod was his only reply. The rest of the carriage ride to the opera was filled with silence, and Rose couldn’t help but wonder just how the rest of the evening would play out.

If it was anything like the way they interacted at dinner parties, it might be quiet dull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Rose’s dress http://fripperiesandfobs.tumblr.com/post/99161101169/ for the curious!]


	4. Chapter 4

Christopher Noble found himself wondering just what in the hell he’d gotten into. For it was hell. Pure utter, eternal damnation. When the door had been answered by Lady Rose Tyler herself, and not a single footman or butler or even maid had been in sight, a dark thrill had shot down his spine.

Alone?

She lived alone?

At least for the night. Perhaps all week?

The next thought that had crossed his mind was to remember to breathe, even as he looked at her. Even as fire burned through his veins, and desire began to cloud his mind, he simply focused on the inhalation and exhalation.

Rose had been clearly in a hurry to get to the door, for when she’d stood still, a flush of color had risen in her cheeks that had extended down her neck before vanishing below the demure neckline of her gown. He wanted to know how far and low that blush extended.

It was a deep pink, almost red, but softer, and only made him think of her namesake. It complimented her golden hair wonderfully. The shimmering wrap and sash that emphasized her waist and trimmed the sleeves of the gown was almost the same color of her mane.

She was a vision. Every inch the golden goddess he’d thought of while conversing with Donna. If hell wasn’t to be his final destination, then Heaven help him.

He’d never been speechless twice in his life, much less in one day, but Rose Tyler had managed the impossible.

As he sat beside her in the carriage, he bit his tongue, for if he’d dared to speak, he was half scared of what might tumble out his mouth.

_Demands to turn the carriage around, for what opera could amuse them both as much as the unfettered exploration of more carnal delights?_

_Confessions that he’d never once gotten the feel of her body against his since they’d danced years before, a passion that had only been rekindled by the morning’s affair?_

_Or maybe, he’d utter the most boring things known to man, and she’d jump out of the carriage headfirst to simply escape?_

All these and more flooded his mind, until the carriage had jerked to a stop, and a soft press of a small hand on his arm alerted him to their arrival at the theater.

Eyes like molten caramel met his, as a tongue touched smile shook him out of his thoughts, and he returned to being the gentleman he was.

He helped her from the carriage, and took no small satisfaction in how she leaned back against his arm as he guided her inside the building.

The climbing it took to reach her private box had him questioning the logic, but when they reached it, and he saw the angle of the stage view, he swallowed all complaints.

There were heavy velvet curtains that could be adjusted to hide them further from the rest of the opera audience’s view, and his hands began to sweat.

How much of the rumors were true? How much did she really pay attention to at the opera?

When a cool breeze wafted across his face, and he looked over to find her fanning him, an amused smile dancing over her face, he relaxed slightly.

“You look so nervous. Are you expecting an assassin in the wings? It’s merely an opera. A fiction. We’re perfectly safe.”

A nervous laugh escaped him, and he could have bit his tongue.

“No Lady Tyler. I’m merely overheated from the exertion of the climb.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, and when Rose snapped her fingers to have a bottle of champagne brought to them, he smiled.

“You are certainly impressing me. Do you bring all your---…”

The flippant comment died in his throat, as he realized he was about to condemn himself into the same category as the rest of the men she brought to this box.

Luckily, the arrival of their drinks eased the awkward silence, but only for a moment.

He’d no sooner gulped down half a glass of the sparkling beverage, than Rose had shifted her chair closer to him, and set a hand on his knee.

“My lovers? My companions? My…what Lord Noble? What were you about to say? To assume?”

The bite in her tone had nothing on the fire in her eyes, and the instant the lights went down in the theater, her hand was gone, and she’d moved away from him, towards the balcony, eyes fixed on the stage.

A silent curse escaped his lips and he finished the rest of his champagne and poured another glass before the first notes had been sung.

***

Rose had tossed off her shawl the instant she’d heard the music swell. The heat of embarrassment and shame had been almost too much to bear.

She knew now this had been a terrible mistake. Lord Noble surely thought the worst of her, and clearly he believed the rumors. Maybe he’d only come with her to see if they were true. He must assume that it was only his status and age that was keeping him safe.

She snorted, safe.

No. Only pride was doing that.

The truth was that it was easier for her to drink and dull the pain as she drove her fingernails into her palms, in her effort to keep from throwing herself at him.

The carriage ride had been torture. He’d complimented her, and she’d been flush with happiness. Then she’d noticed the scent of his cologne, and realized why she always had liked sitting by him at dinners.

He was intoxicating.

But it was more than that.

In the dim light from the stage, his face was thrown into sharp contrast, and she thought that his cheekbones could have been carved from marble.

His high brow was stern, but he could look at her with the same smoldering intensity she liked to weaponize.

He was an Adonis, a god, and he was nearly twice her age.

She was clearly going mad from overwork and alcohol.

When she glanced away from the singers and found him watching her, with those eyes narrowed, and his arms crossed, she shivered.

She couldn’t wait for the curtains to close. The ones on stage, not the ones in the box.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose said hello and goodnight to the few patrons they passed on the way out to the carriage, but Christopher could tell she was not usually one to stick around and socialize. Not merely because she never left the box alone, but because she’d never been like that. She was much like him. She observed the bare minimum of social niceties.

However, in spite of her short interactions, because of her beauty and grace, not to mention family legacy, she was thought of in warmer terms.

It didn’t matter the rumors and gossip that surrounded her, Lady Rose Tyler would never be considered a hermit of the Ton.

Christopher Noble was well on his way to becoming just that.

His arm was stiff as he helped her into the carriage, and the stony silence that followed them back to the Tyler estate was nothing like the stifling one that had taken them to the theater.

He walked her to the front door of the manor only because he knew he would have felt guilty if he had not, and surely the driver would have informed Donna, at some point, if he hadn’t.

He winced as he imagined the potential lecture out he could have received for that.

Rose caught the look, and he froze.

“What?”

He swallowed and lifted his hands, the general sign of surrender.

“Nothing. My overactive imagination.”

He winced again. Why did he feel the need to blurt out every inane thought in his mind around her?

Well, some of them.

“I beg your pardon?”

He only just realized the many ways she could have taken that sentence, the instant before her hand had risen to slap him across the face.

“I hope you have had a sufficient amount of entertainment for the night Lord Noble. I’ve not retained a single note of the opera, and I think you can _imagine_ why. Goodnight.”

The slamming of the door brought him completely back to his senses, and he brought his hand up to rub the flaming side of his face.

He heard no rebuke or smart comment from the driver before he’d climbed inside, and perhaps it was for the best. He wasn’t certain he hadn’t deserved that slap, but he also wished he’d had a chance to speak with her.

As the carriage took off, he realized he’d be seeing her a lot sooner than she would probably like, at Donna’s party.

Only then did it sink in that he’d not mentioned it at all, and now Lee would need to send a currier after all.

Donna was going to be thrilled.

***

“You did _what_?”

Christopher sat back, and simply rode out the storm of his sister’s fury. Part of it was justified, certainly, but most of it was not.

He knew the most of it stemmed from the fact he’d not revealed how soon he would see Rose again, but the other fact was he had failed in his message delivering duty as well.

“I’m sorry.”

Donna pursed her lips at him, and set her tea cup down so firmly the china might have cracked.

“Don’t apologize to me. Send an apology note to Rose, _alongside_ the invitation for my birthday party!”

The rest of the sentence Christopher heard very clearly in his head, “You daft fool!”

He wasn’t denying it. He’d been unwise to think he could maintain a proper distance from Rose Tyler. She was like the sun, fire and he was the foolish moth dancing on the edge of a flame.

Without even a single indication besides the invitation to accompany her to an opera, he’d been prepared to ravish her in the secluded box. Had it not been for his mistake, his mental lapse and vocal faux pas, her subsequent retreat and cut direct, they might have been making their own music, albeit much quieter.

He nearly rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, but unfortunately he didn’t look away from Donna fast enough, and she caught the look.

“You rolling your eyes at me? So help me, I’ll tell Lee, and he’ll…”  
Christopher did roll his eyes at that, and pressed his lips together tightly,

“Do what? Do you really think there’s any point to threatening me with empty words? I’ll do as I promised, and Rose Tyler will be at your blasted party. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve an appointment with my business associate I’m eager to attend.”

He left her staring after him with only a slightly smug looking gracing her face. Donna had noticed how he’d neglected Lady Tyler’s proper title, and she bit back a smirk at the fact.

He’d be forced to speak to Lady Tyler soon enough.

***                                                          

Sir John Smith arrived home with a minimal amount of pomp and circumstance, as per his request. He didn’t want to do anything to take away from the upcoming announcement of his sister’s engagement.

After all, he didn’t want her to be any more cross with him than usual. Jack had been up to some mischief, and apparently, in his mother’s frantic terms, ‘Gone off Lord knew where.’

John wasn’t too concerned, for how far would his trusted and beloved companion go alone? A certain golden haired woman’s face crossed his mind, along with the faint memory of a kiss stolen, no, shared, on her massive estate, and he almost smiled.

Almost, for his mother had thrown her arms around him before he could get in a word edgewise, whether of thanks or of congratulations to Clara who stood idly by, peering at his luggage with curiosity.

“That’s not nearly what you left with. Did you suffer a robbery on your return journey home?”

Clara asked with no amount of tact, and before their mother could become more hysterical, John lifted his hands to ward off the questions.

“I’m actually mostly settled at a place in town. I’m only here for the night, to catch up, and retrieve a few things.”

Idris Smith looked as if she’d been slapped, and John was quick to apologize.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, but I’ve already taken a position in town. I hoped to announce it at dinner, but I’m not going to be working for only father. I’ve gotten a job performing bookkeeping for a local business.”

His mother smiled weakly, and ushered him inside before replying,

“Who’s that dear? Anyone we know?”

John nodded, and shrugged, before lowering his bags to the floor, where they were swept away by a butler in an instant.

He could feel Clara’s curious glare burning a whole into his suit just between his shoulder blades.

“Noble Enterprises? They had their former bookkeeper retire, or he was promoted, or something, so I applied, and they offered me the position!”

He felt giddy at the prospect of having work besides the dull duties of what his father had been asking him to do, when the truth was it was hardly a major difference in career.

He would be performing mostly the same menial tasks, but for a man who did not expect him to finish his life doing so.

Clara gasped aloud, as Idris clapped a hand to her mouth,

“You’re working for the Noble’s? They’re almost our competition!”

John scoffed,

“Nonsense. A gas company holds no threat to a bank. And I’ve never known you to turn down an invitation of Lady McAvoy’s.”

Clara pursed her lips and frowned most unbecomingly,

“She is no longer a Noble. There’s a difference.”

Idris nodded solemnly,

“I believe perhaps you’d better have a word with your father, before you set anything in stone.”

John sighed,

“Oh mother… you know what he’ll say. Besides, this is a sure thing. I met with Lord Noble today, and I’m to start working first thing this week.”

It was barely the eve of the weekend, so John had plenty of time to settle in before returning to work, but he suddenly wondered how much time he would be able to relax and prepare if his family was to act as if he’d betrayed them all.


	6. Chapter 6

“Who delivered this?”

Rose Tyler held the offending scrap of starched white cardstock between a thumb and forefinger as if it were crawling with lice, and perhaps on fire.

The golden script spelled out a pleasant note from Lady McAvoy, and a request for her presence at her upcoming birthday gala, but the most concerning line in the card was one that contained Lord Noble’s name.

Rose’s butler Wilf looked mildly amused, and he nodded to the card,

“Lord Noble, milady. He just left on horseback a few minutes past.”

Rose stuck her head out the front door, but only a cloud of dust down the road gave any indication of such a fact.

She wasn’t sure if she was insulted or glad that he had not remained around or wished to speak to her in person. Instead of making the effort to air things out between them, it seemed that he had resorted to subterfuge and hid behind the words of his sister.

_‘Forgive my brother for his unsavory mouth; it’s something I’ve learned to ignore, having grown up beside him. But you did not suffer such a hardship, and now suffer thusly. I hope I will see you at Lee and my home three weeks hence, and I assure you I will place Christopher as far from you on the chart as possible.’_

She’d giggled only slightly, before the sinking sensation in her throat reached her stomach. If she had no one interesting to talk to, she would be forced to converse with some of the same women who spread vicious lies and gossip about her. Surely none of her former opera companions would be invited to the McAvoy’s home, so she would need to find someone of kind heart and open mind to cling to.

How she wished that the McAvoy’s were as interested in stargazing as she was. She could easily pass the time with a telescope.

A loud barking startled her from her train of dark thoughts, and a genuine smile began to form on her face. She knew that sound.

The engraved card slipped from her grasp and she ran for the back door of the manor.

***

Rose was never more grateful to see an animal than the moment Jack came into view. She fell to her knees and he bounded joyfully into her arms, knocking her back slightly with his enthusiasm.

“Oh Jack, I’ve missed you. How’s John been treating you? And your mistress Clara? I hear she’s been engaged.”

A cough sounded and Rose looked up at once to find John himself, watching her embracing his companion, with his hands stuck in his pockets and a cautious look on his face.

He may have wanted to smile, or grin in the usual manner, but something seemed to be stopping him.

“John.”

“It’s nice to see you again Lady Rose.”

She got to her feet, keeping her hand on Jack’s head, stroking his ears,

“Just Rose please. It’s the weekend after all. No need for such formality.”

To her shock, he gave her a small bow, just the tilting of his head, but then spoke,

“You are a Lady regardless of the day, and I must beg your pardon for intruding on you like this. I only came to retrieve Jack before dinner. I had no idea he’d gotten this far.”

Rose stepped towards him, and when he retreated, maintaining the scant formal distance between them, she frowned.

“John. What’s wrong?”

A sad smile slipped over his lips, and he lied to her, direct to her face,

“Nothing Lady Rose. Good evening to you. Come Jack, we’re going.”

The large black dog looked forlorn up at his friend, and even tried to pout at Rose, but she didn’t dare argue with John.

Something was troubling him, and she would find out what it was, even if he wouldn’t talk to her.

“Good evening.”

She murmured in reply, turning her back on the lake and the retreating figure of John and Jack.

***

“What’s it that I hear? You’ve hired on the Smith heir? He’s actually going against the wishes of his family? He’s certainly braver than I would have imagined.”

Donna had trapped Christopher into Sunday afternoon tea when he’d not shown up to church, and now he was thinking perhaps confessing the sins of his work life would have been less painful.

“Yes. I’ve hired John Smith. But he practically begged me to.”

Donna lifted a red brow at the news,

“That’s not what the gossip says. He’s rumored to be planning a long trip out of the country, and the position he’s taken would certainly be of a much shorter duration than accepting the family businesses reins.”

“What makes you think I’m going to hire a lad for only a short duration?” Christopher intoned dryly, annoyed at how Donna was making him out to be the hero, when the opposite was true. He’d hired John Smith to keep him busy, and to hopefully reduce the chance of him seeing Lady Tyler, before he’d had a chance to formally apologize.

Donna was smirking at him, and he felt the blood drain from his cheeks.

“Oh my. What have you done brother mine?”

“Nothing but help out a lad in need.”

His jaw ached from being clenched so tightly, but the way Donna’s blue eyes, so similar to his own, narrowed worried him.

“Really? You’re being truthful with me?”

Christopher nodded.

“Why would I lie to you?”

Donna shrugged,

“I’ve no idea. But then you won’t mind that I’ve invited John and his sister Clara, along with her fiancée Adam to my birthday party. So sorry you didn’t get to hand deliver those invitations, that might not have ended well I’m afraid.”

The innocent look that slid over her face was a perfect mask. Christopher set his tea cup down, lest he shatter it with the strength of his grip, and he rose from his chair smoothly,

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a scheduling matter that’s just arisen.”

Donna waved her hand at him,

“Don’t bother trying to keep him from coming. My party is on a Saturday evening, no one will be working the late shift. Not even you.”

A growl escaped him, and he left the room, lest he say anything he would come to regret later.

Donna watched him go, and a sad smile fell over her face. It was wonderful that he’d been able to give Sir Smith a job opportunity, but if he was using it as a means to an end as she suspected, nothing would end well.

She sighed and poured another cup of tea, not eager to face the rest of her invitations to be mailed. Growing older was such a burden sometimes.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose dreaded having to go into town to check on the warehouse, but she couldn’t delegate all the responsibilities of maintaining a healthy business.

She was more afraid of running into John or Christopher than anything else, so when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face that belonged to neither man, she was relieved.

“Lord Harkness! Hello.”

The handsome man with a reputation that now rivaled hers looked up from the newspaper he was reading, whilst leaning against the side of a nearby building.

“Hello Lady Tyler. It’s a pleasure to see you again. Time has only done you more wonders than I thought possible.”

Rose fought the urge to roll her eyes at his words, but she was too happy to see him to really be annoyed.

“What are you doing back in town? I’d heard that you’d run away to America, and never planned to return.”

Lord Harkness’ face split into a smile, and Rose felt her cheeks flush. It was utterly unfair for a man like him to be so good looking. His blue eyes were darker than a certain Lord who she was keen to avoid, but the way they focused on her own hazel ones mostly made her forget all her words.

“I had to come back for Lady Noble, er, Lady McAvoy’s fortieth birthday fete.”

Rose gave a mock gasp, ignoring the name misstep, and she snapped her fan on his arm,

“How dare you reveal her age! That’s quite rude.”

His white teeth shone against his tanned skin, and he shrugged,

“Well when you’ve known her as long as I have, you know there’s no point pretending she’s the age she says she is. Don’t all women do that anyway? Start turning the clock backwards at thirty?”

Rose wasn’t sure how she felt about that myth, or even if it was halfway true, considering how close her own thirtieth year was. He must have seen the hesitation in her eyes, for he immediately took her hand and kissed it, then held out his arm for her to take. She did, while silently trying to come up with a clever retort.

Eventually all she could do was recall their last meeting,

“You know I never learned your name. Please, enlighten me, who are you?”

Lord Harkness chuckled,

“No milady, I do not laugh at you. But the fact you remembered that which you do not know, or that in all this time no one ever questioned you about the time you danced with the infamous Captain turned Lord Harkness amuses me to no end. You may call me Jack if you wish.”

Rose must have looked at him strangely, for he halted their pace, and reached up to stroke her cheek. Or perhaps he was simply done dancing around things, and preparing to drag her into the nearest alleyway.

She rather doubted that.

“Jack? Captain? What on earth do you mean?”

Jack shrugged, and glanced away before meeting her gaze again,

“I used to be a captain in the navy. Unfortunately I was dishonorably discharged, but all in the name of love, I assure you.”

Rose shifted her face away from his hand, and rolled her eyes.

“Of course you did. Why should I believe a word you say?”

“I think deep down you want to believe the best in people. I should hope you would offer me the same consideration. I do not wish to resort to blackmail, indeed it is closer to hypocrisy, but you’ve garnered quite the reputation for being strict in business, but loose outside the office.”

Rose swung her hand into his face so fast she stunned herself. She blinked the instant her palm made contact, and regretted it slightly a few seconds afterward.

Jack, for his part, looked amused, and not at all hurt.

He caressed his cheek, which was a violent shade of pink already and smiled,

“Guess I deserved that.”

“Indeed.”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me buy you a drink?”

Rose pursed her lips,

“No. A lady in her right mind would do no such thing. But I would allow you to accompany me to Lady McAvoy’s birthday party…that is, if you’ve really been invited.”

Jack grinned at her, and lowered his hand to take hers,

“Of course. It would be my pleasure. And what a thing to say Lady Rose, I’ve been invited. In fact, I could show you my invitation, but it’s back at my hotel…”

Rose glanced away from him before feeling a smile form, despite herself,

“I think you already know the answer to the question you are thinking. Rumor is one thing, but hard fact is another. I will be content to have you on my arm. Until we meet again, Captain?”

Jack nodded,

“It’s funny. I almost prefer you to call me that instead of Lord. Sort of sets me apart from the rest of the dullards in this town, don’t you think?”

Rose burst out into giggles,

“Oh my. You think you’re so impressive don’t you?”

Jack shrugged,

“Although I may not deserve the title, I think any way you say my name suits me fine. Good day Lady Rose.”

He strode off, with no small amount of swagger to his step, and she shook her head as she watched him go.

He’d insisted on using her title nearly every chance he’d gotten, while she’d only used his name and title, and now rank that she knew ironically.

How strange. John’s dog shared his moniker with a rogue Captain, and Rose had a sneaking suspicion it was no coincidence.


	8. Chapter 8

The night of Donna’s party arrived in what seemed like no time at all to John, and he was far from ready to officially announce his return to the Ton. But if he stayed home, he’d be gossiped about just as much. Clara fussed with his bowtie, and before he could smack her hands to still them, or tell her to go bother her fiancé, it was time to board the carriages.

He looked across the lake as they drove by and wondered if Rose would be going. The thought was accompanied by a sinking feeling in his stomach at the memory of their reunion. He’d been unforgivably rude to her, but he’d also been under stress, facing rebuke from his family, and the actual start of his job. Things with his family had gone better than he could have dreamed, with his father listening patiently and eventually clapping him on the back for deciding to forge his own path. It settled things. It meant Clara’s side of the family would stand to inherit everything, but at least John had his freedom.

He couldn’t care less for money, as long as he and Jack had a place to sleep, he would be content to save and scrounge every penny until he could travel the globe.

Paris would be his first stop, he knew that now. Then Barcelona, then Rome, Venice and after those he wasn’t sure.

Now all he could pray for was the hope that Rose would give him a chance to apologize.

Upon arriving, he slipped to the back of the group, letting Clara and Adam lead, with Lord and Lady Smith following as John lingered behind.

The first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of flowers adorning every flat surface, even the floor. Pale yellow rose petals were scattered on the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of the flower.

After shaking a few hands and bowing to a crowd of giggling young ladies, John made his way over to a wall, where he could easily observe the entrance.

He was preparing himself for the sight of Rose, and trying to work out what he would say when a figure stepped in front of his line of sight, and a shadow fell across the floor. John looked up to find Lord Christopher Noble, his new boss, and third host of the gathering staring at him cautiously,

“Sir Smith, good to see you.”

John smiled a little at the joke. He’d only left the office a few scant hours earlier, and Christopher had still been there.

“Same to you Lord Noble. I trust you didn’t need to be in that stuffy old building much longer than I did?”

Lord Noble’s answering smile was tight, and he looked away,

“I’d hardly call it stuffy. One could be laboring outdoors and having to avoid sunstroke every day.”

John swallowed, and nodded,

“Of course my lord. I am grateful you gave me the chance to work where I do. I will never forget it.”

Lord Noble’s smile softened slightly, perhaps he’d realized how harsh he’d sounded,

“Certainly Smith. No need to take things so literally.”

Before John could speak again, a hush fell over the room, and both he and Lord Noble turned to see the front, where an elegant blond woman stood beside a dark haired man clad in a sharp blue suit.

Someone gasped, and then Donna swept forward from out of nowhere and loudly greeted them.

“Lady Tyler, Captain Jack, so good of you to come.”

John gaped at the pair, and he thought he heard Lord Noble growl.

“That’s Lady Rose? She looks so different.”

“No doubt thanks to the good captain.” Lord Noble’s reply took John off guard, but he quickly recovered.

“I know Jack has a bit of a rumor mill around him, but he’s a good man.”

Lord Noble whirled on him, his glare so piercing it was a wonder John did not have rips in his jacket,

“You know him? You honestly believe that about him?”

John straightened up and held his head higher,

“Of course. He’s my cousin. He may be a bit of a rake, but he’s never harmed another living being in his life.”

Lord Noble snorted,

“Surely that’s a lie by omission. He fought in the Navy. He killed men in battle just as I did. Pretending that he didn’t is pointless. If you’ll excuse me Sir Smith, I see someone I must greet.”

John was left standing alone, feeling much too similar to a wallflower than he cared to think about.

***

Rose felt practically giddy with nerves, and only the calm anchor of Jack’s arm under hers kept her still. She had known it was a gamble and held no small amount of risk to appear with someone like him, but she found she didn’t really care anymore. What she did in her private life was no one’s affair, and it didn’t diminish her character. Well, shouldn’t have.

Jack leaned close to whisper to her, and she forced a smile onto her face.

“You look lovely, and you’re doing magnificently. I saw the look on Lord Noble’s face. I promise you he’ll steal you from me for a dance before you can blink. I just hope you won’t hit him with the force you did me.”

Rose uttered a faux laugh before answering him,

“I already did, before I said goodnight to him.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted and he smirked, to say he was impressed was putting it mildly.

“Good for you. I don’t see any sign of a scar though, so you must have been gentle.”

His eyes glittered wickedly at her, and she pinched his arm in retaliation.

“Jack! You’re just here to help. Stop flirting at me so hard.”

The split second view of a pout across his lips was enough to nearly make her laugh aloud.

“Fine. Dance with me?”

Rose hadn’t even noticed the music begin, so wrapped up in herself had she been. But she turned to him with a smile, and curtsied,

“Yes please Captain.”  


Jack had been right, it hadn’t taken long before Lord Noble was striding across the room, intent clear, and face stony. He almost wished he’d placed a bet with Rose.

Jack practically danced aside and let him cut in, and Rose fought to keep her face neutral.

“Lord Noble.” Her voice betrayed her, shaking just slightly.

“Lady Tyler, Rose, please allow me the chance to beg your forgiveness.”

His hand was hot as it took hold of hers, and his arm seared its heat right through her dress, for all the silk and petticoats she wore, they might have been made of tissue paper.

At least there was no danger of her catching afire.

“Very well. You’ve done it. I don’t expect you to waste any time groveling, so don’t bother talking about anything besides the weather, if you please. And I prefer you call me by my title. You must earn the right to use my name.”

A curt nod, and then suddenly he was dancing them past the other pairs and towards the enormous glass double doors that opened onto one of several balconies.

The only relief from the stuffy ballroom could be found outside, but Rose had not wished to do anything of the sort, much less with Lord Noble.

She might have had a devious plan involving being caught with Jack in a precarious position behind a planter later on in the evening if John hadn’t found her by then, but not this.

Lord Noble had walked them both so far from the rest of the Ton that any words exchanged would go unheard. She wondered if now would be an ideal time to slap him again.

He’d not let go of her hand, and for some reason she’d not pulled away, so when he stroked the back of it with his thumb and she jumped, he spoke.

“Lady Tyler, I want you to know I am sincere when I say I am sorry. I did not think when I spoke, and I had already gotten a notion in my mind how I wished for our evening to go. I was wrong.”

Rose wondered at the likelihood that the stuffiness had followed her outside, for she felt as if the air was closing in on her, and it was becoming a challenge to breathe properly.

“Lord Noble…”

There was pure agony in his voice when he spoke, and she was surprised at the slight guilt she felt,

“Please, call me Christopher.”

She swallowed,

“Christopher. I never wanted there to be any doubt, but now on the chance there is, I do not in fact whore myself out to every man I ask to accompany me places. I am capable of restraint. Believe me, if I _wanted_ to, I would. It would be my right.” She drew a shaky breath, and continued, hearing no protest from him, “I will admit to something however. I enjoyed the idea of spending time with you, and I had a wonderful time walking around town with you. The evening did not end how I wished it to either.”

Frantically hoping and praying that Jack wouldn’t choose the next moment to come rushing to her rescue, she waited with bated breath for Lord Noble’s reply.


	9. Chapter 9

Christopher Noble had sworn he’d felt his heart literally stop, and start again at the sight of Lady Rose on a strange man’s arm. It was true, he did not wish her to have to go anywhere alone, but the small flare of jealousy he felt would not subside as he watched them begin to dance after making their few greetings to Donna’s other guests.

Only irrationality and panic had driven him to interrupt their dance, and as Captain Harkness had moved aside and Lady Rose had not protested, verbally or through visual cues, he gratefully took the lifeline he saw.

He got out his apology, if badly worded, and then endeavored to repeat it more eloquently.

As Lady Rose had spoken, and she reached her final words, his heart leapt back from where it had been sleeping low in his stomach to his throat. What was she saying? Could she possibly mean she felt something for him?

He stepped closer, well aware of her small hand still in his, and he searched her eyes desperately for the words left unspoken. When she didn’t speak again, and she merely leaned towards him, whether unconsciously or not, he did the same.

The distance between them closed, and her eyes fell shut, while his remained open, and the scent and sight of her the only thing convincing him he was not dreaming.

Time may have stopped, or slowed, but when his dry lips finally brushed hers, he swore he could hear the music dull in his ears and a haunting melody replace it.

His free hand dared to reach up and cup her cheek, as his other clung to her hand, holding on for dear life. She sighed into his mouth and her lips parted beneath his.

His hand shifted back and his fingers wove through her perfectly styled and pinned hair, possibly mussing it beyond repair as he deepened the kiss.

So lost were they in the haze of joy that united two drifting souls that until the footsteps had reached the outside of their same balcony, they did not notice.

“Rose? Lord Noble?”

The astonished voice of John Smith startled them apart, and Christopher was certain he’d heard a few pins clatter to the ground in his haste to let go of Lady Rose.

“John. I can explain.”

Mouth agape, and eyes wide, John Smith looked at him with horror and disbelief,

“How could you? When you knew…”

Lady Rose spoke next,

“What the hell’s going on? How do you know each other?”

Christopher pressed his lips together, and tried to ignore the faint taste of mint that lingered from the kiss.

“John Smith works at Noble Industries. He’s the new accountant.”

“Really? I would say that’s wonderful, that you’ve sought employment outside your fathers company, when I knew how much it meant to you, gaining independence and distance, but,” She broke off, and stared at Christopher, “How much of a coincidence is it that _you_ were the one to hire him?”

John held up his hands,

“Whoa. Stop just a moment. What do you mean? Why does it matter that he hired me? I never got a chance to apologize for how I acted the past fortnight. I was rude, and my mind was most troubled. I that is no excuse, but there you have it.”

Lady Rose took a small step towards John, and with it broke Christopher’s heart. There would be no forgiving this. Now was the time to put all the cards on the table.

“I hired him because I wished to learn about any news of you. I knew that as your neighbor, he’d have a better chance of seeing you than I would. I hoped to find a way to get back in your good graces. I have tried, and now failed. I know there is no hope of conquering this folly I have committed.”

Lady Rose looked extremely hurt, and the slight wobble of her lip was the final straw. He nodded to John and bowed to Lady Rose, silently bidding them farewell.

Tonight he would not be making an appearance at dinner, and Donna would get over it eventually. The one person who he wanted to atone himself to the most would likely never speak to him again.

***

Rose remained outside for the remainder of the dancing, only moving back inside when the dinner bell had been rung loudly, and with some force.

John had tried to strike up a conversation with her again but she’d simply waved him away. She didn’t feel like pretending anymore than she had to that she wanted to be there.

Now Jack’s arm around her waist was the only thing stopping her from bolting. From the far end of the table, she could see Lady McAvoy watching her, and mouthing the words, “I’m sorry.”

Rose shrugged and simply smiled. Some things couldn’t be helped. She needed time and space to think, and the dinner party was the last place on earth where that could happen.

After trying to enjoy the wonderful food and failing miserably, she simply resorted to pushing the food on her plate around in circles.

Jack caught sight of her, and stuck his own knife in front of hers, putting a stop to her green beans third lap.

“We can leave as soon as they ring that bell again.”

Rose sighed,

“It doesn’t matter. What’s one hour? Two? All it means is delaying my return home and when I will drown myself in misery.”

Jack cocked a brow at her,

“Alcohol?”

Rose managed a half hearted smile,

“No, but I wouldn’t mind something stronger than this wine.”

He leaned in closer, whispering directly into her ear, sharing a sweet nothing for all the room to guess,

“Why don’t you stay with me in town? I’ve got plenty of liquor, and that way you won’t have to drown alone.”

Any other night, at any other party Rose would have said no.

That night, the brutal truth was she _didn’t_ want to go home alone.

“All right.”


	10. Chapter 10

Rose had hugged Donna goodbye, begging off with the excuse of a headache, though both women knew that was an utter lie, curtsied to Lord McAvoy, and then let Jack lead her back out to their waiting carriage.

The tears were held off before they crossed the threshold of Jack’s home, and even then they remained a small amount, until her third glass of whiskey.

“I just don’t know what do anymore. I hate going to work, not because of the work, but because of the people. I know it’s a bit much to ask for someone to respect me, since I’m a woman. But I’m doing what I have to; I’m trying to keep my family name alive.”

She dissolved into sobs, and let Jack pluck the now empty glass from her hands and simply allowed him to hold her.

“It’s okay.” He whispered soothingly, “I know it’s hard to ignore the stares and the gossip. But you don’t have to do it forever. Can you think of a way you could hand off the company, but still keep the rights to the name, or something of the like?”

Rose hiccupped before lifting her head to look at him,

“I don’t suppose you fancy buying me out?”

Jack chuckled, and stroked a thumb over the apple of her cheek, brushing away the smudged and smeared makeup,

“I would if I could Rose. The problem with that plan is that I’m basically broke. No one will hire me, and no businessman will finance me. That’s why I resort to women.”

Rose frowned at him, and he hastened to elaborate.

“I spend _time_ with women. Mostly widows and or disillusioned lady wives. They take care of the bills and in turn, they spend the night with the Captain.”

A dry smile twisted across his face, and she gasped.

“You mean this place isn’t yours?”

Jack shrugged,

“Sort of yeah. I mean, when I came back from America I was much more flush than usual, so I was able to actually settle down a bit.”

Rose bit her lip and looked over at the fireplace, and Jack chuckled,

“I may not know you well, but I know that look. You’re trying to think of a way to save the world, conquer evil and end poverty.”

“Namely yours. What if you came to work for me? You could be my advisor. You’re a real businessman, and you’ve got plenty of connections and dirt on the right people, I would guess.”

Jack looked offended,

“Are you asking me to help you blackmail your way into early retirement?”

Rose laughed nervously,

“Maybe?”

Jack whistled softly,

“You must be lousy with money if you can risk that.”

Rose didn’t answer him right away, and he took her face in his hands, and met her gaze,

“I trust you Rose. I believe in you. I’m willing to help you in any way I can. I want you to be happy. But most of all, I want you to be able to do what you want without fear of anything. You can’t let what people say bother you.”

Rose hugged him close, and he chuckled again,

“That’s my girl.”

“Okay Jack, Captain, let’s talk business, before I have anything else to drink. Okay?”

Jack pulled back and tapped her nose with his index finger,

“You got it boss.”

***

The design for Clara’s wedding invitations were splendid. In his opinion at least. But she didn’t seem to be satisfied, even with several rejected designs behind her.

John stood by silently as she looked over the newest one. It was a soft pink shade, with dark navy lace surrounding the words _,_

_“We cordially invite you to attend the wedding of Clara Olivia Smith and Adam Steven Mitchell.”_

He couldn’t see a thing wrong with it, but Clara didn’t approve of the silver lettering. She was quite determined that it should be gold.

“But mother, I don’t care that Lady McAvoy used gold lettering on her birthday invitations. My wedding is much more important than a past party.”

John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling, for if he did not, that could lead to laughing which would not earn affection from his sibling.

Idris Smith looked weary, and there was perhaps more grey than usual peeking through the chocolate waves of her hair.

“Clara, dear, don’t you think you ought to admit defeat eventually? This wedding hysteria you are currently afflicted with will end the moment you begin to walk down that aisle. Then nothing in the world will be as important as the vows you must repeat. Least of all what the invitations to your wedding itself look like.”

Their mother was the voice of wisdom, and all things pragmatic, and the look on her face dared Clara to argue.

John watched as her lips pressed together into a fine line, and eventually parted as she sighed.

“Oh all right.”

John saw their mother visibly sigh with relief, and she led Clara away, to pour her some tea, finally one battle one and one task finished.

It was almost enough to drive one to drink, or perhaps scare one off from matrimony altogether. John wasn’t sure he was ready to take to either extreme, but if things didn’t improve or end by the time Clara _was_ wed, he could see himself succumbing to the desire for both.

***

A garish pink envelope sat on Christopher’s desk, and from the tone of Donna’s voice when she’d met him for lunch earlier that day, she’d received an identical missive.

He knew enough gossip to predict the contents. It was an invitation to the wedding of the most ambitious and fiercely pretty ladies of the Ton.

Her beauty was one that reminded him of a fox. Clever, sharp, and with the potential for murder and mischief. Miss Smith was nothing like the beauty of a certain blonde who’d been dancing her way in and out of his thoughts and dreams for the last month.

He would be attending of course, no doubt with Donna on his arm, for she would never force her own husband to take her to such a pointless event.

It would only be to quell any possible rumors and gossip of Donna’s pregnancy.

If neither of them went, they would confirm it. If they went together, surely their pathetically disgusting cheerful demeanors would give it away at once. Donna was extremely paranoid, and considering her advanced age, she had every right to be. She would not make a formal announcement until she had confirmation by a skilled nursemaid.

Christopher had reluctantly agreed to keep the word mum, but unfortunately, it had gotten out. It was not yet confirmed, thus the need to ensure it would not be, yet.

Despite all that clouding his mind, he still couldn’t keep from wondering if indeed Lady Rose would be there. He couldn’t think of her as Lady Tyler, it was too formal. He would gladly think of her as Rose, but for the fact he knew he would accidentally address her as such if he began to use it in his mind.

He’d returned home from Donna’s party in a mad anger and lust induced state of jealousy, and sent his personal private detective to find out all he could about a certain Captain, in attempt to gain information to bring about his destruction. He could not stand the thought of such a man spending _any_ time with Rose.

Lady Rose.

But when the papers and files had arrived and been placed on his desk, it was the startling revelation from a wordless look by John Smith that halted all efforts to uncover dirt on the Captain. The delivery from his detective went unread, and collected dust over the next few days as he ignored it pointedly.

Jack was certainly a man with a checkered past, but how different was that from himself?

Christopher had realized how foolish he had acted, all for the…dare he think it? Love... of a woman who wanted nothing to do with him. He’d been driven insane by one kiss from a golden lady.

If the rumors were to be believed, which he endeavored they were not, then Lady Rose was just as fallen and lost as the Captain.

He scoffed, but the amusement was hollow. They were perfect for each other, in a strange twisted way. After seeing the hour was late enough, Christopher reached into his desk and brought forth a half empty bottle of rum, poured himself a half glass, and gave a toast to them.

“May you find the love you deserve in the last place one would think to look.”

He drank it all in one swallow, and relished the burn in his throat. Now he would stop. Stop looking for her, stop thinking of her, and stop _feeling_ so damned pathetic about her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara's Wedding!

Rose eyed the hastily torn envelope that lay on her desk, amidst the still un-cleared clutter from the month’s business transactions. Where was Jack when she needed him? He was the organized one, the patient one, and the one who she had probably been leaning on a bit too heavily lately.

Approaching footsteps and the rattle of china brought Rose out from her musings, and she turned to smile at her serving maid, but gasped aloud when she found the familiar warm brown stare of Martha Jones.

“What are you doing here? And why are you carrying my tea? I can usually manage.”

Martha beamed at her and set the tray down before falling into her embrace.

“Oh I just missed an old friend! I wanted to see how things were going, and most selfishly of all, I hoped to secure an invitation to the wedding of the season.”

A wink accompanied her words, but Rose laughed aloud all the same.

“Oh well no need for that. You may take mine. Go in my place. I beg you. How are you? How’s Mickey?”

Martha shrugged,

“Ah well, I wouldn’t dare deprive you of being seen at the right events. I’d rather be your plus one. Mickey, the paternal old man is home with our son James. I hated to leave him, but to be honest, I quite liked the idea of sleeping a whole night through. I’m a bit selfish, what can I say?”

Rose hugged her again, and shook her head,

“Don’t be ridiculous Martha. I hardly blame you. I’ve heard newborns and even older babies can turn a woman into the living dead.”

Martha giggled, and then looked guilty, but only for a moment, before a smile broke across her face,

“So what’s this I hear? You’ve got your own fellow you’re seeing? A Captain by the sound of it?”

Rose sobered instantly, and nodded.

“Yes I suppose I do. He’s actually a former Captain, and even goes by Lord, but he’s wonderful.”

Martha took her hands and led her to sit down beside her on the chaise,

“So what’s he like?”

“He’s handsome, kind, thoughtful, clever, and a lovely dancer.”

Martha nodded,

“He sounds perfect…but somehow I can sense that there’s not much passion between you.”

Rose’s blank stare didn’t faze her old friend, and within an instant she was confessing,

“There isn’t, because we aren’t courting. We are simply business partners who use our association to our advantage. He’s actually seeing someone who he wouldn’t exactly be allowed to dance with at a gathering of the Ton…if you understand. As for me, I’m not really seeing anyone. I’ve managed to kiss two gentlemen and drive them both off at once. Talk of the Ton I am. A foolish girl. I know I’m nearly an old maid, but I feel so young, so lost inside.”

Rose finished dryly, and Martha patted her hands.

“Don’t worry. If they didn’t come after you, they’re the fools, not you.”

Rose smiled sadly,

“I like to think so yes. But the truth is they did try. I just couldn’t bear to see them. So I’m avoiding them to avoid any more heartache. Sort of a coward, me.”

Martha rolled her eyes, and Rose would have protested her impertinence, but she was no longer under her employ and she was probably about to tell her the harsh reality of things she’d been hoping never to hear.

“Rose Tyler, lady or not, business owner or not, you’re more than a match for any gentleman who thinks he’s worthy of a wife. Either they’re both blind and dumb, or they’re completely mad. I think even if you didn’t like either of them, you could still do a right amount of damage and have a good time courting and coming to know them.”

Rose laughed,

“Damage? What on earth do you mean?”

Martha shrugged,

“Well, more like damage to their reputations. If you’re seen with them, what mother of a perfect virgin lady will be interested in seeking their suit?”

Rose lifted an eyebrow at the thought,

“You know, you’re right. I might have already accidentally ruined one.”

Martha chuckled,

“That’s the Rose I know and love. So tell me, about this wedding, what’s the girl like? Would I know her?”

Rose nodded,

“Oh yes. I would believe so. She’s John Smith’s sister.”

Martha’s eyes went wide,

“Of course! Smith isn’t exactly a common name out here. Well…” She trailed off, obviously thinking of her husband and how her own name now was indeed just that.

Rose smiled,

“I never thought of you or Mickey as common. In fact, I’d say that you’re both unique, and the fact you found one another is one of the few miracles this world has offered to us mortals.”

Martha looked somber, and she stared Rose directly in the eye,

“What’s another miracle you’d wish for?”

Rose’s throat constricted, and her eyes stung,

“I guess a second chance? A way to know my feelings, to know what’s right? What’s best?”

Martha nodded,

“That sounds perfectly logical. Something you are blessed with in abundance. How else would you have managed such a complicated business for so long by yourself?”

Instead of the usual sadness she felt when her lost family was mentioned, Rose felt a strange welling of pride bloom inside her chest. She had done great things, and succeeded well beyond the expectations of herself and others.

“I don’t know.”

Martha squeezed her hands,

“I think you do.”

***

The day of Clara’s wedding dawned bright and clear, a beautiful day for a glorious occasion.

Well, that’s how she saw it. As John thought of it, direct sunshine onto a black suit, and a frighteningly good chance of passing out from heatstroke.

Of course, that was merely at the reception. The wedding itself would be in the city church, and the after gathering would take place on the Smith estate.

John didn’t look forward to either event with much enthusiasm.

Kind words would be exchanged at both, some lies told, some truths omitted, and in the end, he wasn’t sure he’d be any closer to making contact with Lady Rose.

He could have written to her, certainly. But what guarantee was there that she’d read anything he penned? Much less if she would reply. She’d never replied to any of his missives from university, and that had been when they were on good terms.

Nowadays he was sure she’d probably burn anything with his name scrawled on it the second she saw it. The real question was what desperate hope had made him think she would even attend the wedding?

Starched collars and stiff cummerbunds were not what kept John standing straight all throughout the day, but the fact he’d spotted Lady Rose not twenty feet from him, chatting with his cousin Jack and some of the less gossip prone ladies of the Ton.

In a few moments they would both be coming over to greet Clara and Adam, likely wish them well, and possibly ignore him completely. He wasn’t sure what he wished for most.


	12. Chapter 12

Rose gripped Jack’s hand so tightly his voice took on a strained note, and she relented slightly. But the sight of John Smith had not put her at ease. She had prepared a speech for him, and would prefer not to recite it so close to his sister and the rest of his family.

How to get him alone?

Could Jack help?

Suddenly the moment was upon her, and her words died in the back of her throat, and all she could manage were pallid pleasantries.

“Good afternoon Sir Smith, Lady Mitchell, and Lord Mitchell. May I offer my most sincere congratulations, and happy wishes for your future.”

Jack echoed the hollow sentiments, and urged Rose onward with a gentle press of his hand to her lower back.

The look of utter despair in John’s green eyes almost had Rose voicing her true thoughts, but by the time she’d found them, they were too far away, and the music had started up.

Jack ushered her onto the dance floor, and the queue of guests greeting the newlyweds continued to grow.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispered it so only she could hear, and Rose found herself patting his shoulder nervously to help convince herself,

“It’s perfectly alright. Now was not the ideal time.”

“Indeed. But do not let the ideal time never manifest. There will not be enough handkerchiefs to dry the tears of a woman who has lost the opportunity to accept the love of the man who she in turn loves.”

Rose laughed, but it felt as hollow as the words she’d spoken to Clara, while never meeting her eye,

“I make no such claims of your cousin’s desire or feeling for me. I only wish to set things right.”

“And so you shall.”

Jack spun her gently and after that, never let her leave his arms for the rest of the reception.

Even when she spotted Lord Noble with his flaming red haired sister who she couldn’t help but smile and wave at, she stayed by Jack.

When she felt the burn of Lord Noble’s gaze upon her, she only nodded politely and urged Jack to walk her over to the table laid with a glorious feast of finger foods. A glass of champagne calmed her nerves, and slowed her racing pulse. But still she could sense the horrible weight of unspoken words on her tongue.

***

Rose had arrived home and felt the emptiness of the manor screaming silently. So she’d done the only thing she could, turned right back around and left. She headed for the Noble estate. She knew it was foolhardy, rash, impulsive, and possibly the worst mistake she could ever make.

But she’d not mustered the courage to approach him, despite having Jack at her side for any need. So desperate times called for desperate measures.

She needed to end this.

A single lamp burned in a far right window of the manor when Rose stepped down from her carriage. She’d not wanted to wake the footmen, nor wished to be alone with her thoughts for long, so she’d driven herself. The brisk night air in her lungs and the brightness of the moon overhead had distracted her aplenty.

Now her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and she lifted a shaky hand to knock on the door.

The sound seemed to echo around the front hallway, and she turned her head, imagining she could hear footsteps descending stairs and a confused sigh filling the air.

When the door was wrenched inwards and the face of Lord Noble appeared, Rose took an involuntary step backwards.

His face went from confused and mildly annoyed to concerned and hurt in the blink of an eye.

“Lady Tyler? To what might I ask is the meaning of this? Is there some sort of trouble? The hour is hardly fitting for a social call.”

Rose pursed her lips and stood firm, re-taking the step forward, and nodding towards the hall beyond the threshold,

“Might I come in?”

Lord Noble nodded, and moved back at once, manners overruling his logical mind,

“Of course, please come in out of the cold.”

Once the door had closed behind her, Rose knew she no longer could avoid speaking. The purpose of her visit indeed.

“Lord Noble, I must apologize for my calling at such a late hour, as you said, but I did not take advantage of the chance to speak with you earlier this afternoon.”

He nodded slowly, and she took it as a sign to proceed,

“I wanted to tell you that what I did was wrong. I used you. I spent time in your presence, and then kissed you in full view of anyone who cared to see. I allowed you to be made a mockery of, if not in public, and then in private, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

Lord Noble still looked lost, and he shook his head,

“Lady Tyler,”

She interrupted him with a raise of her hand.

“Rose. Just Rose. Behind closed doors, I think we all know I’m no lady.”

The faint ghost of a smile crossed over his mouth, but did not fully form,

“Nevertheless, I will address you as such. Lady Rose,” he bowed to her, “I think you are a kind and generous woman, with a heart as large as the ocean. You underestimate just how much people think of me, and they do not care nearly about the exploits of an old man as much as they do of someone like you. If anything, you may have given my social standing a lift. For if someone like me could have a chance to be caught in a compromising position with a woman like you, there is hope for the rest of the aged bastards out there.”

Rose was in utter astonishment. She’d hardly noticed his use of unbecoming language, and she heartily disagreed with his view of himself and his seemingly high regard of her.

“You cannot mean that Lord Noble.”

He inclined his head to her again,

“I do. Every word.”

“It’s preposterous.”

“Indeed.”

“Does that mean you still…”

She paused, uncertain of what she truly wanted to ask, or if she was ready to hear the answer.

“Still what?”

He prompted her, his blue eyes wide and fixed on her. She kept silent a moment longer, delaying as much as she could, while her gaze roved over his features. He degraded himself, called himself old, and shot her down at every opportunity, while his eyes said differently. They held emotion that she knew he would be hard pressed to ever let leave his mouth.

Those lips. Her eyes wandered down from his cheekbones and the angular slope of his nose to his lips. They looked rather thin, but when he’d kissed her they’d felt impossibly soft and gentle. The way he’d kissed her had been so different than she’d expected. A man like him she’d thought would take and press and devour a woman. But he’d been tender and almost reverent.

Time stilled as she studied him, and when she realized that she’d been quiet far too long, she opened her mouth to apologize, perhaps uselessly, but she found herself much closer to the precise thing she’d wanted.

His form, embracing her, and perhaps inches from her.

“May I?”

His voice wavered, and she found herself nodding without even a thought.

Those lips were hers once again, and she secretly rejoiced at the resolution without an uttered word.

Why didn’t people do this all the time? Or perhaps they did, and only she partook of the somewhat mild carnal delight once every few months.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she felt her knees weaken beneath her. Then swiftly his arms were encircling her waist, keeping her upright and surely she was much too heavy for him?

He pulled back, only slightly, for his lips still brushed hers when he spoke,

“Rose, oh Rose, you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this. I’ve prayed to any and all the gods who’d listen.”

She smiled against his mouth, and her eyes stayed shut,

“I guess I’m just as stubborn as you, I did the exact same thing.”

A sound resembling a growl left his mouth and he was kissing her again, this time, holding nothing back, and becoming the man she’d pictured him as.

He was clearly trying to steal the very air from her lungs the way his mouth moved on hers, and when his tongue slipped past her teeth and touched hers, she jumped in his arms.

“Sorry. I got carried away.”

Rose shook her head,

“No. It’s just so new for me. So strange.”

Her eyes opened and she saw him watching her with an amused expression,

“Good strange or bad strange?”

Rose smiled, and tucked her tongue between her teeth where he was sure to spot it,

“Fantastic. In fact, Christopher, may I call you that? Lord Noble is far too snobbish for my taste. I think I may be ruined forever. Your kisses rob me of my reason.”

His blue eyes smoldered down at her,

“I could say the same about everything you do. It seems to be your daily devotion to cause me agony.”

Rose pretended to think about it before answering,

“Well, perhaps yesterday, but now? I’ve got what I want, and so do you. I hardly think more torture is required.”

“I said nothing of the sort about torture.”

“True.”

“I don’t suppose you could possibly stay?”

Rose pretended to think about it,

“I do have a reputation to maintain…”

“And I have one that is already improved by your presence…”

“Perhaps just for a little while longer.”

“I will ensure you are home by dawn.”

“Not like anyone would miss me.”

Christopher frowned at her,

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to throw some smut in here, but i just couldn't. you'll see why soon enough.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heed the warnings...

The bottle of whiskey felt heavier in his fingers than it should have, considering it was empty. John frowned at the offending glass container and then flung it aside without a second thought. The shattering sound it made against the dirt and rocks below the porch steps were quieted by the dull thrum of alcohol singing through his ears.

He smiled dreamily up at the night sky, and he swore he could make out the outline of Lady Rose’s face among the stars. But perhaps that was simply the whiskey addling his brain. He got up unsteadily, and descended the porch steps at a snail’s pace, but he was intent to cross the space between Smith Manor and the Tyler Estate.

He _needed_ to see Rose.

He had to talk to her. She might not have wanted to listen, but he wanted to tell her the truth. How the last few years and months all had been such utter torture. Leading up to the moment he stumbled upon her kissing another man, let alone his new boss?

Why had she done that?

He wasn’t so lost in his emotions that he believed she’d done anything on purpose to hurt him, but how could he blame her? He’d stopped writing after the first two and a half years, and then nearly ignored her when he’d arrived home. Every encounter since then, he’d only made more of a fool of himself in her presence, and he only had himself to blame. His cousin Jack was working for her, and with her now, and he was glad. He’d wanted to help the former Captain, but without the future ownership of Smith Banks to look forward to, there was nothing he could do.

Even when he squinted, he could see no sign of life inside the estate, no glowing candlelight spilled from the windows, and no smoke was wafting from the chimney.

What if Rose wasn’t even home?

He decided he didn’t care.

One foot in front of the other, no matter how long it took. He would get there. He knew Jack, his ever present and faithful companion was sure to be not far behind, and he missed Lady Rose just as much as he did.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he wished with every fiber of his being that time would turn backwards, and he could somehow travel to the day they’d first met, start fresh, and earn her love like he should have.

One kiss in an empty greenhouse didn’t equal the sort of love that inclined a woman to marry a man beneath her station.

One or two dances at the first dance of the Season wasn’t unusual, and had certainly not meant as much to her as it had him.

He wasn’t sure he could ever forget how she felt in his arms. Despite how often she seemed aloof and strong, beautiful and powerful in her self-created armor, he knew how delicate she was.

He’d felt her trembling and he’d stroked her own tears from her face. Her skin was like silk, and should never be marred with the sadness that was more and more evident when he saw her.

“Oh Rose. My lovely golden lady. I hope you can forgive me.”

He whispered into the night, and the gentle wind stole his words from his lips. Her home seemed to be staying the same distance away, and he frowned, forcing his feet to be swift, willing himself onward.

Progress was inevitable, and eventually he was parallel to the lake, and the glass walls and windows of the greenhouse shone out in the moonlight to him, drawing him closer. He smiled and laughed to himself. Almost there.

Something caught his shoe, and he glanced down to see what it was. His foot was halfway through stepping over a fallen tree branch in the way of his journey, so he avoided it, and took the long way. He moved nearer to the lake, and got distracted by the reflection of the moon on the water.

“So beautiful. But I’m afraid Lady Rose outshines you. She is the sun, and she warms everyone she sees with her smile...when she does smile....” He added with a small one of his own.

Perhaps the moon had been insulted by his words, or perhaps the whiskey had finally taken its toll, for when he took his next step, his foot slid on a soft patch of grass and he pitched headfirst into the lake.

The water was ice cold, and chilled him swiftly. The chattering of his teeth brought him slightly back to his senses, but his feet felt like bricks beneath him, intent on dragging him down. His clothing was soaked and made his limbs move sluggish; his already slower reflexes were deadened to the most minimal of movements.

He kicked desperately, and his arms spun slowly like a windmill on a calm day. Though it felt like an eternity, it was mere seconds before he slipped under the surface.

The air he held onto in his lungs burned like fire, and he struggled to reach back above water.

He finally managed it, and with the last strength in his lungs, he breathed out, calling for Jack.

“Help me! Hurry!”

The answering bark was muffled by the water that filled his ears, and the moon was still a bright silver orb in the sky, even below the surface.

He didn’t feel his feet touch the bottom of the lake, and he didn’t know when he tried to inhale and found only the icy touch of water, instead of the relief of oxygen.

His last thought was for his family, and his mother’s face in front of his eyes, before blackness enveloped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is why the story has an M rating.  
> And believe me, I cried while writing this. I hated it.


	14. Chapter 14

When Rose pulled the carriage to a halt in front of her home, she was surprised to see her small household staff assembled outside, awaiting her arrival.

“It’s lovely to see you all awake on this beautiful morning, but it’s hardly necessary. You’re all off until tomorrow. Or have I gotten the dates mixed up?”

She dismounted and stepped towards them, a frown sliding across her forehead,

“What’s going on? Please, someone speak to me.”

The front door opened and she looked to find Martha guiding Jack the dog out and down the front steps.

“Martha? What on earth? What is Jack doing here? Did he run away again?”

She was stunned to see present tears on her friends face, and by the redness of her eyes, they were not new.

“Rose…he’s been here all night. He was barking so loudly, they called the police.”

Rose shrugged,

“John? John’s family? I’m not surprised. They don’t seem too fond of him.”

Martha shook her head,

“No Rose. He was here, barking on your back porch. They heard the noise, and ordered a constable to investigate. You weren’t home, so they contacted us. Well, me. I brought everyone else here.”

Rose sighed,

“Very well. So they must think I tried to steal Jack. Is that it?”

Martha smiled, but Rose saw the way her mouth trembled,

“No Rose. Jack was trying to find you, because something has happened. Something dreadful.”

Rose licked her lips, and looked from the large dog back to her friend and back to Jack again. The poor beast looked as if he’d indeed been awake all night, and the fact that he was silent at the sight of her suggested perhaps he had used up his voice for the time being.

“What is it?”

Her voice came out in a whisper, and Martha just took her hand, leading her inside the house, and away from the rest of the servants.

“It’s John. Rose, he’s been found.”

Rose swallowed, but there was suddenly an enormous lump obstructing her, so only a sob emerged.

“What do you mean? Where?”

Martha was leading her out the back of the house, and when Rose caught sight of figures down by the lake, she stopped.

“No.”

Her heartbeat was roaring in her ears, and when Martha spoke again, she heard only a strange buzzing noise.

Her blood ran cold, and the more Martha talked, the more she began to hear, and she wanted nothing to do with it. The truth. The facts.

Why there were men down by the lake, and why Jack was so quiet and sad.

Only the owner of such a creature could have made so strong a connection. The mind of a beast was not one easily communicated with, much less truly reached.

But neither was the mind of Rose Tyler.

“They’re saying he drowned, but Rose, he’d also consumed a massive amount of alcohol. It’s just as likely that he was already gone before he hit the bottom of the lake.”

Rose didn’t care.

“But he could swim…surely. Don’t they teach you that at university?”

Martha shook her head,

“According to his family, he never learned. They hadn’t ever foreseen it being a problem. I mean, I suppose they always thought he would teach himself someday. He was so clever.”

Rose wanted to scream at her, “Don’t you think I know that? I _knew_ him very well, thank you very much. He was going to travel the world, see hundreds of new places, and he wanted me to come with him. Maybe I would have someday. I needed to speak to him. Tell him what I’d decided. Now I can never do that. Now I will never be able to face his family. How can I?”

That was what broke her, shattered her resolve, and made her unable to pet Jack again. The police had speculated he’d been attempting to come to the manor. To visit her. To see her. To finally broach the silence and end whatever had been keeping them apart.

Perhaps it had been this. Perhaps it had always been leading to this.

He’d been so young, too young. So full of life. Rose heard such things spoken of children who passed away from fever, illness, and she knew it was true. But never had she felt it so deeply, and been faced with it. He’d not been that much younger than her, she knew that. But he’d had such optimism, so many dreams. If Christopher, no, Lord Noble, had kissed with the energy of an oncoming storm, a maelstrom of emotions, then John had been a spring shower. A gentle cascade of emotion, and as much as she hated herself to think it, she wondered if she’d have kissed him goodbye. If she’d spoken her piece, and confessed about herself and Lord Noble, would she have tried? Would she have let him try?

Was she utterly damned for even thinking it?

She’d not realized the arrival of Captain Jack until she felt strong arms around her. She’d been horrified for a moment it was Lord Noble, come to see her at her weakest and most vulnerable point of her existence, but no. More family of John’s she didn’t want to face.

But Jack was different.

She sobbed into his chest, and he stroked her hair, whispering soothing things, all the while her mind fought for control over her grief.

Eventually the tears subsided, and she found herself staring at Jack, where he lay in the corner, curled into a black mess of fur and long limbs.

“He named his dog after you. He was his best friend.” - _‘But you weren’t._ ’- “Why?”

Jack, the real Jack, still holding her tightly, sighed,

“Because I couldn’t be there for him. I left, I ran off to join the naval academy, and his family no longer wanted anything to do with me. He was too young to understand, so they fed him a story, and somehow, he still wanted to believe the best about me. So he named the pup after me. It’s horribly ironic and tragic.”

A watery laugh escaped her, and she had the mad desire to keep giggling. But she couldn’t. All she could see was the young John, a lonely little boy who’d lost his only hero, who had gone far away, and might never come back.

***

The funeral service was tasteful, and widely attended. John Smith might not have been a Lord yet, and he might have shunned his family inheritance, but he’d been a good man, and a unique member of the Ton.

When Lady Tyler attended with two men, one by each arm, but only holding hands with Lord Noble, while Lord Harkness simply stood near, no one bothered to comment.

Not many knew that the gentleman who’d passed away had loved Lady Tyler.

Still fewer knew how she’d loved him back, even if it had been doomed to end, with or without fate intervening.

She was not the first to leave, but in fact the last. Her parting gift on John Smith’s grave was not a flower, as some might have assumed, but a small silver bracelet. The significance of the jewelry was unknown to the Ton, but the look on her face spoke volumes.

It meant something to her, and parting with it was the only way she could have closure, and not be haunted by the sight of it.

John Smith slept eternally beneath the stars and moon, and perhaps in that sleep, he dreamt, and visited them.

***

 

**END**


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